They saw. A band of the Grand Army of the Republic struck up "Conquering Hero."
* * * * * * *
Now, of the briar rosebush seen by Man-alive, there is a story, which was related long ago in the fifteenth-century travels attributed to Sir John Mandeville. The story runs that after the Crucifixion there did appear upon the hill of Calvary a briar bush wherein each several drop of sweat and every tear became a white rose, and all the drops of blood begat red roses.
Where Ananias was an amateur but the author of these old Travels a Great Master, one must be modest, but this present writer is aware that he and his fellow craftsmen break through at times into the Truth. That rose bush may not very likely have blossomed down on earth, and yet it might well appear upon the holy site a veritable thing upon the astral plane, much visited by people in their dreams, watered by fairies, guarded by the angels. One dreams of such a rose bush growing thus out of the sweat, the tears, the blood of martyrs crucified, and sheltering Rain as she lay in Storm's arms asleep until the third day, the time of resurrection.
Man-alive would see the roses there, but not the astral cross of lambent flame like carven moonlight, or the luminous figures of the priestess at rest in the arms of a martyr crucified, or the spirits Catherine and Thunder Feather, who knelt keeping vigil beside their children, or their guardian Hiawatha, descended from the middle Heavens, his glory softened lest its exceeding splendor be unbearable to people of the mists. He witnessed the meeting of those long-parted lovers, in a region where hearts are opened and misunderstandings quite impossible. But he also saw four angels attendant upon the cross. It was long since human hands had fashioned a cross like that, claiming a guard of Angels.
Rain awakened, and when she saw her mother, Catherine, Hiawatha, and the four Angels on guard, her cry of joy roused Storm. He was a little bewildered at first, supposing himself to be still that Roman soldier who so long ago had helped to crucify the King of Angels. Then slowly he realized that he was Storm who had made atonement, who now bore, on his own hands, feet, and breast the very stigmata, the wounds whose blood-drops burn and glow as rubies. That is the reason why on our earth the ruby is more precious than the diamond or any other stone, being, as it were, the shadow cast by the very holiest, loveliest, and rarest thing in Heaven.
When they tried to stand up both Storm and Rain were seen to be suffering from shock, for even the body spiritual is jarred by such a death as theirs. They could not stand, but at a sign from Hiawatha knelt before a table which now stood at the foot of the cross. Upon the table were a Cup and a Dish which cannot be seen except by those of pure and perfect knighthood, such as Sir Galahad, and Joan of Arc, for the Chalice is that used at the Last Supper, and the Dish is the Holy Grail.
Two of the Angels, having performed the rite done in Remembrance, brought the Grail which contained the broken bread, and the cup of wine. "Take, eat," said the one. "Drink ye all of this," said the other.
These two, who had hungered and thirsted, were now fed, so that never afterwards could they know hunger or thirst, weakness or any pain, but were immediately filled with more than human strength. Moreover, so great was the enlargement of their faculties that they could hear music, of which only a little had been revealed to Handel and Mozart, Bach and Beethoven; they could see such color as was disclosed to Turner; forms which Pheideas and Praxiteles tried to model, da Vinci, Raffaele, and Michelangelo to paint, or Shelley to describe. Yet, even in the hands of genius, our arts are bankrupt, unable to render a penny in the pound of the Realities which have inspired them.
Yet, because in the act of writing these passages, I hear with the inner senses most tremendous music, and see, when I close my eyes, color ineffably lovely, I feel the assurance that the words may be true beyond my knowledge. It seems to me that I see the cross uprooted, and laid down. Then the four Angels hold a laughing argument as to whether Storm and Rain shall stand as in a chariot or sit as in a throne, it being decided that they shall do exactly as they please; while Storm has but one wish, that his arm may enfold his wife, and she denies him such conduct as that in public. I see them seated upon the arms of the cross facing its foot, while the Angels, one at each limb of the glowing timbers, lift it upon their shoulders.